


Flight of the Falcon

by Chya



Category: CI5: The New Professionals
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-30
Updated: 1999-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chya/pseuds/Chya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agents Keel and Curtis go to sunny Egypt on the trail of a dodgy archaeologist and an ambitious son of the mafia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight of the Falcon

**Author's Note:**

> Umm, lots of notes for this one. Bear with me, please. This story has my usual violence, angst and head-twisting. However it's also kind of silly in the sense it's pretty farfetched to say the least, even against my normal scribblings. It was inspired by an all night session of Tomb Raider 4 with my best friend, and any of you who have played it will recognise lots of little bits and pieces I've nicked from it. 
> 
> For any archaeologists/ancient historians/etc who know lots about Egyptian mythology, I've tried to keep fairly close to one version of the myths, but I have taken certain liberties - please don't be offended!

"So," asked Backup, "What have you two been up to?"

Curtis and Keel looked at each other, eyes meeting for a brief second, before they burst out laughing.

Backup stared at them, "What?"

"Nothing, Backup," Sam said placatingly, "We just had two weeks of lazing around, and doing absolutely nothing."

Chris snorted, and Backup looked at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to tell me that the two of you had two weeks of vacation, and you didn't manage to find any trouble whatsoever?"

"No, I don't think we said that," Chris grinned, "We just did nothing."

Sam unsuccessfully tried to muffle his laughter, and Chris lost it altogether. Backup stared at them, finally giving up in exasperation and turning back to her workstation.

She found Curtis and Keel at either side of her. "We're sorry, Backup," said Sam. "It's just that. - "

"It's just that it's a story to be told another time." finished Chris.

"That's right," said Sam, "We'll tell you later. Promise."

"Okay..." Backup still looked a little miffed. "You'd better go and see Malone, he's got something for you."

*****

"Egypt, gentlemen. How much do you know about its culture?" Asked Harry Malone, peering over his glasses.

"I've been there a couple of times, Sir - "

"I'm aware of that Mr Curtis, the question was; how much do you know about Egyptian culture?"

"The tourist trade is their main source of income, begging is a way of life to... "

"No, Mr Keel," Malone sighed, "I meant religion, mythology, cults."

"Ra, Isis and Osiris?" asked Sam. "Not much beyond the fairy stories."

"Quite," breathed Malone, "Old gods, relegated to the past but for the ruins that are dug up from time to time."

"So, what has ancient Egyptian mythology got to do with us?" asked Chris a little impatiently.

"I very much hope, nothing at all, " said Malone over his glasses. "However, the ancient Egyptian mythologies are not as much in the past as we would like to believe. There are many cults still in existence, one of which is dedicated to the worship of Seth, God of Chaos."

"We're investigating a cult?" Chris looked sceptical.

"No, Mr Keel, not exactly. The man you will be investigating is known to be a member of the Cult of Seth. The part that could be a problem, gentlemen, is that traditionally, human sacrifices are made to Seth. A contact in Cairo reported seeing your target in Cairo just before he disappeared and local police are tentatively linking his disappearance to Seth ceremonies that are known to occur there is no moon."

"Nice, so who's the target?" Sam asked.

"Henry van Dijk," Malone handed Sam a black and white glossy of an older man, handsome in a rugged way, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard, "A failed English archaeologist ostensibly still running digs in Egypt. However, considering he has made no find of any importance, he has a rather healthy bank account."

"So where's the money coming from?" asked Keel.

"Yes, well, that's where it starts to get interesting. Deposits are made into his bank account on an irregular basis from an untraceable source. Now the other player," Malone gave a Keel another glossy, this time of a younger fair-haired man with a cruel mouth and wearing sunglasses, "Marcus Cordani."

"Not the same Cordani family from Berlin -?" began Chris.

"Exactly the same. Son of Emilio, in fact."

"We're talking some seriously heavy mafia, here." Keel whistled.

"Hold on a minute," broke in Sam, "I don't seem to be up to date on who's who in the mafia; who's Emilio?"

"Emilio Cordani ran the biggest rackets in Europe while the iron curtain was still up. They were based in West Berlin, and were into everything, drugs, guns, prostitution, whatever." answered Keel.

"Were?"

"Yeah, their empire pretty much collapsed when the wall came down, although as I understand it, Emilio still rules the mafia in Eastern Europe. A couple of years ago the CIA was on his case when he started bringing drugs and guns into the States."

"Very good, Mr Keel, but you too are out of date; Emilio apparently passed away some weeks ago. Marcus seems to have ensconced himself comfortably into his father's seat and is now trying very hard to rebuild his empire."

"You think Cordani's buying something from van Dijk?" asked Sam.

"Oh, I'm positive he is," remarked Malone. "But there's no proof. That's where you two come in," he gave them the humourless smile that told Curtis and Keel that whatever they were about to do, would be - fun.

*****

"Who's stupid idea was it to take a cab?!" yelled Chris above the screaming of the car's engine.

"Yours!" shouted Sam in reply. "You said, and I quote, 'Even I'm not insane enough to drive round Cairo.' Regretting it?"

"You bet! Yikes!" Chris yelped as the battered old taxi screeched to a halt, and the driver started honking his horn at the grid locked traffic ahead. Speech became impossible as the surrounding vehicles; mostly old, battered taxi's joined the cacophony.

The driver and their guide Ali, both sat in the front looking unperturbed, chattering away in Arabic as the driver pushed the car into impossible gaps, scraping other vehicles until they were finally in the centre of the traffic jam. Sam looked on in disbelief, as the three roads that made up the flyover met without so much as a traffic light or roundabout. Every vehicle seemed to be using the same technique of push and scrape as their own driver. Their car seemed to turn on its own axis until it was pointing toward the road they wanted, and the driver again began the same process of pushing his car through the traffic.

It was obvious that he had spotted the gap that would free them from the chaos when the car suddenly accelerated, throwing the two CI5 agents back in their seats. Only to brake equally as suddenly an instant later, as an old Mercedes with faded, though unblemished, red paint and reflective windows, cut across them.

The driver gesticulated at the Mercedes, but instead of yelling and honking at him, settled for yelling at Ali, who explained to the passengers in the back as the car accelerated forward once more. "He is Mister Digger Dyke, we don't dare cause damage to his car, or Azmi will suffer dire consequences."

"Digger Dyke?!" Sam asked, already suspecting the answer, as the horns faded into the distance.

"Yes! You know, Mister van Dijk, man whose old dig you want me to show you!" he paused, "I tell you it's old and abandoned, did I not?"

"Several times!" replied Sam.

Ali shrugged, "I do not understand why you insist to go, is all!"

"Professional interest!"

"Ah!" Ali's face split into a broad beam of understanding, and he turned back to face the road ahead.

Sam was puzzled, wondering what it was Ali thought he understood.

"Hey, at least the hospital's in the right place for an accident!" Chris grinned pointing to the building just past the flyover. Sam laughed.

As they travelled through the chaotic city, the pyramids of Giza could be seen towering above the buildings in the distance, majestic and imposing. The steel and glass gave way very suddenly to barren desert, vast and all consuming, reducing even the gigantic monuments to over-grown paperweights.

Azmi did not slow down, sending his car bouncing over the ruts and potholes in the road through the massive dunes that only he could seem to see.

Their destination came upon them quite abruptly; a large sandstone cliff jutting up from the sand. Azmi drove straight up the steep incline, stopping at a small entrance sheltered by a few boulders.

Curtis and Keel stretched their cramped limbs and surveyed the desert around them, while Ali retrieved their backpacks from the boot of the taxi. After a few brief words with the guide, Azmi and his dilapidated cab screeched back down the road towards the city.

"Hey, where's he going?" demanded Chris. "He was supposed to wait for us!"

"No problem!" Ali grinned, "He goes to see lady friend, you know, one Missus Azmi knows not about. He will be back, we be gone a long time, anyhow."

Chris was about to push the point when Sam pulled him away. "Ali has to get back somehow, so we'll just have to take his word for now."

"For now," Chris acknowledged. "Doesn't feel right, though." With his back still to Ali, he pulled his gun from his pack, and slipped it into his waistband, under his shirt. Sam did the same.

"Didn't you get any of what they saying? I mean, you're supposed to be the language expert." Chris asked.

"Bits and pieces, certainly not enough to raise any suspicion, but the bloody noise from engine stopped me from getting any more, besides which, Arabic isn't exactly one of my strongest languages."

"I guess we have to trust the local police when they say this guys the best guide around."

"They didn't say anything about trustworthy."

"Probably a relative term around here."

Chris headed up towards the edge of the cliff, but was called back by Ali calling, "Hey, we go now! Long way to travel before we get back!" Sam indicated he should not wander any further, so he went back.

"Hey, I only wanted to see what the front of the cliff looked like." Chris said annoyed at being stopped from doing a proper scout job.

"Oh, no problem, you see that later. It is very, very steep though, very dangerous, I can say."

The three men armed themselves with flashlights, and entered the dark passage.

*****

The first thing the two agents noticed was the cold, a complete contrast to the burning sands outside, and they hurriedly put their jackets on over their thin cotton shirts.

"This doesn't look much like an archaeological dig," said Chris, his voice echoing down the passage, "It's just a tunnel."

"This is back way in," announced Ali, "Quicker to see chambers. Main entrance is at bottom of the cliff for machines."

The passage was rough but well worn, and quickly started sloping downwards. A sharp right turn brought them out onto a ledge. The flashlights were barely enough to penetrate the gloom of the enormous cavern they were now in.

The ledge ran off and down to the right, spiralling the cavern to the bottom. Dark patches that could be more tunnels dotted the wall along the pathway, and on the floor, the torches picked out the gleam of silent machinery.

"See?" said Ali, "We go there," he pointed to a dark patch on the opposite wall, not too far down.

"Right," said Sam, "And this is all supposed to be a temple?"

"Oh, yes," replied Ali, "Very beautiful temple for Seth. Only small, though. Best one is in West Thebes of course."

"Is that one of van Dijk's digs?" asked Chris.

"Oh, yes, he very proud of that one, spends lots of time there."

This was news to the two CI5 agents, and they mentally filed it away for investigation later.

"Why would anyone worship a god of chaos and cruelty?" wondered Sam, as they made their way carefully down the path.

"For archaeologist, you do not know much about our mythologies," Ali's suspicion was evident in his voice.

"We specialise in Aztec history," said Chris quickly, "This is just a vacation for us."

"No problem," Ali sounded a little mollified, "Seth also protects desert travellers, caravans and nomads. He is good for them."

"Is?" Sam said, a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"Oh, yes," said Ali, "Some still believe. Here we are, entrance to the temple," he stood to the side, indicating a short wide passage blocked by double doors.

"You first," said Chris magnanimously.

Ali shrugged, "No problem." he lead the way to the large stone doors, and pressed a protruding block of stone in on an adjacent wall.

The doors slid open; the only sound was rock scraping gently over rock. The chamber revealed was large, though it seemed small next to the cavern they had come from, and perfectly square with high ceiling. A matching set of double doors stood on the opposite wall, and hieroglyphs bordered the walls near the ceiling. The walls themselves were made of large blocks and a large jagged crack ran from ceiling to floor on the right hand wall.

Ali led the way inside, and gave them a few moments to look around, before calling them over to a corner by the closed doors. "Look!" he said, "Scorpions," he pointed to the two tiny yellow creatures who were backing away from them, tails arched threateningly. "Be careful of these, very, very deadly. Their sting will make you dead in a half hour. They like dark, damp places and there are lots of places here."

"I don't suppose you happened to bring an antidote, did you?" asked Sam, as he and Chris crouched down to study them.

"Very sorry, only antidote in the hospital in Cairo." said Ali, backing away nervously from the two increasingly angry scorpions. "Very little exists. When they were digging, some was kept on site, but all gone now."

The sound of rock brushing gently over rock made Keel and Curtis spin round to look at the entrance to the room. The doors were closing and Ali was sprinting for them as if his life depended on it. Keel and Curtis charged after him, but were too far behind. Ali slipped through, an instant before the two massive blocks met, trapping the two CI5 agents in the chamber.

*****

"Shit!" cursed Chris, "Stupid, stupid, stupid! And we fell for it!"

"Damn," Sam echoed Chris's statement. "Well, at least we know about the scorpions, now we just have to find a way out of here."

"What worries me is what he didn't tell us about." Chris said, playing his torch about the walls.

"I'm not worrying about that until something turns up." Sam replied looking for something that might open the doors again.

"Might be too late then."

"Then we won't have to worry, will we?"

"That's one way of looking at it - hey what's this?" Chris walked over to the wall, to find that the large crack was an optical illusion. The right hand part of the wall indented slightly at that point, and the left hand portion of wall only started there, looking like a crack to the casual observer, but in fact hiding a narrow corridor between the two walls.

Unable to find anything of any use, Sam joined Chris, in two minds as to whether to suggest one of them stay in the chamber, but Chris was already making his way down the corridor.

It was only short, and after a couple of turns they met with a dead end. Chris grinned, "Looks like we found the door knob," he said, pointing to the rock protruding from the wall above a small ornately carved slab on the floor.

"But why in here?" asked Sam, more pragmatic, "Why not next to the door?"

Chris shrugged, "Who knows? It's got to do something."

"With the way our luck's running today, we'll get buried by twenty tons of falling sand." he sighed, "Go on then, push the bloody thing and hope it doesn't kill us."

"You get to ask the little guy to leave first, then," Chris said pointing to the scorpion sitting on top of the rock.

Sam grimaced, and used his flashlight to brush the arachnid off. The scorpion somersaulted towards the ground and, an agile creature, it found something to break it's fall; Chris's trouser leg, just below the knee. Chris froze. The scorpion's position was precarious, though, and it dropped onto his boot, launching its stinger.

The tough leather stopped it from penetrating, and Chris kicked it off with his other boot, relieved to see it scuttling into a tiny hole in the wall. "Don't do that again," he told Sam firmly, though his voice shook a little.

"Sorry," Sam grinned, "Just testing your reflexes."

"I'll test yours in a minute." Chris griped as he pushed on the rock. Nothing happened. He tried pulling it, pushing it up, down and sideways, but nothing happened. He smacked his hand down on the rock in frustration. Still nothing happened.

"Look out, another friend of yours." Sam remarked pointing his light down on the ornate slab where another scorpion, or perhaps it was the same one, was scuttling across. Chris stamped his foot down on it, hard.

The sound of rock scraping gently over rock could be heard from back up the passageway, and as one, Keel and Curtis sprinted back to the main chamber. The scorpion picked itself back up, unfazed by the stamping attack and continued on its way.

The double doors had opened; not the ones where they had come in, but the opposite set. Even as they arrived back in the chamber, they were beginning to close again, but they sprinted through them with time to spare.

They were at the top of a long stairway leading down toward an open door at the bottom. Each step had a long groove running through it, and an ornate slab similar to the one in the other passage, seemingly placed at random.

Chris stepped onto the first step, his foot landing squarely on an ornate slab. Something in the wall clicked, and he felt a strong arm yank him backwards as something whistled through the air where his head had just been.

A gear could be heard in the wall, and the long shining blade that had fallen over the step was winched back up into the wall. Still shaking, Chris watched Sam's light run down the walls, picking out the narrow slits that must house more of the deadly blades.

"Kind of well maintained for a temple that's thousands of years old," Chris gulped.

"Wouldn't surprise me if those blades were made in Sheffield," Sam agreed.

"I guess the fancy stones are the ones we don't step on."

"You first, then, and this time don't be in such a hurry."

"Thanks," Chris tentatively stepped on a plain slab, and was relieved that there was no ominous click in the wall. Chris made his way carefully down the stairs, avoiding the ornate slabs, with Sam echoing his every move. When they reached the doorway at the bottom, they both slumped against the wall in relief.

*****

Chris felt something hard move against his back following by a grating sound. Looking round he saw a stone slab moving down to close off the doorway, "Sam, quick!" he yelled diving through the doorway, and hoping his partner was behind him.

The slab slammed home, accompanied by the crunch of glass and plastic. When it was once again quiet, Chris picked up his flashlight, "Sam?"

"I'm here," his partner groaned, from his position on the floor, "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"I know. Being shot at, bombed and tortured is a piece of cake compared to this."

"Will you do me favour, Chris?"

"What?"

"Stop standing on, running into and leaning on things you shouldn't. It's doing me in."

"Old woman."

"Troublemaker."

"Gotta have some fun."

"You have far more than your fair share," Sam sighed, "I suppose we should be grateful that we're getting somewhere instead of being trapped in the room upstairs." he suddenly cursed, "I've lost my torch."

"I think I heard it get squashed by the door," Chris replied, using his to look around the new chamber. They were facing a large, worn statue of a man sitting in a throne that almost touched the ceiling, but he had the head of an animal.

"If that's Seth, isn't it supposed to be a jackal head?" asked Sam.

"Looks more like and anteater to me," responded Chris, running the light over the centre of the room. An open coffin stood there, with its lid suspended several feet above, spikes glinting redly from its underside.

They moved over for a closer look, and nearly gagged at the smell and sight of the contents of the coffin. Blood was splashed up the insides, and lying at the bottom were the crushed remains of a man. Bits of coloured plaster were mixed in with the crushed skull and brain matter, and bone white maggots were wriggling through the remaining pieces of decaying meat.

"Ow!" Sam yelped, "Just shinned myself on something." Chris focused his torch on Sam's legs, and highlighted the tap at the bottom of the coffin, with it's red stained spout.

"Oh, gross," the American said, "that must be where all the blood from this guy came out. You okay?"

"Aside from a lovely bruise in the morning and a distinct loss of appetite, absolutely fine."

Sticking close together, the two men searched the chamber finding nothing but an open doorway behind the statue. A plain set of stairs led downwards in a square spiral, and they cautiously descended them.

At the bottom was a small chamber with a closed door on the right. The ornate slabs decorated the floor in a random pattern, and Sam remarked, "Do we step on them, or not step on them?"

"Give me your gun," Chris said, holding out his hand.

"Why?" asked Sam suspiciously, even as he pulled it out.

"Just trust me, will you? I'm gonna try something." Chris took the Beretta and threw it at the nearest ornate slab, hard. Something clicked and whirred and the slab of stone that was the door rose up just a few inches to reveal daylight beyond.

"I guess we step on them then." He jumped to the first one and retrieved Sam's gun.

"Why did it have to be my gun?" asked Sam plaintively.

"I like mine," Chris replied with a grin that in the darkness, Sam could not see. He jumped to the next ornate slab, and the door slammed shut again. "Okay, I guess some open the door, and some shut it, we just have to find which does what."

Sam, meantime, had jumped to where he though the slab was, but found he had missed by a good foot when Chris swung the torch back round. Nothing happened though, so they figured it was safe to walk on the plain slabs.

Once they had worked out which slabs opened the door, it was easy for them to get through into a passage whose ceiling was the sky that led into an open outdoor area. Looking up, they could see that they had come out at the bottom of the cliff.

*****

They did not have long to enjoy the fresh air and daylight, for as they reached the end of the passage, two dogs, Rottweiler's approached them snarling and growling. They had collars whose leads were attached to rings at the end of the passage, effectively blocking anyone from entering or exiting the passage.

"Nice doggy," Chris tried being friendly, but neither beast was impressed.

"I hate it when people train their dogs this way," Sam remarked sighting the dog on the left and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened.

"A real waste," agreed Chris aiming for the dog on the right, who died with a strangled yelp.

"You broke my gun," said Sam petulantly.

"Sorry," Chris replied, despatching the remaining dog, "Better yours than mine."

Sam made a face and dug into his backpack, pulling out another Beretta before following Chris to the end of the passage. .

Voices could be heard, though the words were too far away to be distinguished. Chris and Sam peeked out of the passage, and saw some men loading a truck.

The red Mercedes was there, along with two trucks and several jeeps, and although Henry van Dijk remained in the car, his voice could be clearly heard; "I want every trace gone!" he shouted through the window in Arabic. "Make damned sure there's not one bullet left around that's traceable to me!"

"So you got out," came a voice to the side. They turned to find Ali standing there with an Uzi pointed at them; two other men similarly armed were behind him. "How did you get past the knives?"

"We took lessons from Indiana Jones," said Chris through gritted teeth.

"Ah! Ha-ha! I see your American humour has not suffered for your experiences." Ali's smile was cruel. "Mr van Dijk does not like unwanted guests, most particularly of the CI5 variety. I have instructions to ensure you do not leave this place alive. Drop your weapons!"

Chris and Sam dropped their guns, and the two henchmen approached to bind their wrists. Van Dijk's voice called Azmi over to the car, and he went running, servant to his master.

As soon as the first man bent to take hold of Keel's wrist, the CI5 agent grabbed the man's arm and twisted, throwing his hip out and sending the man flying.

Meanwhile, Curtis had thrown a double fisted punch at his opponent sending him reeling backwards.

Within seconds, the two henchmen were bound and gagged with the same ropes they had intended for Curtis and Keel.

Presently, the Mercedes drove away back to Cairo. Shortly after that, Ali started shouting when he found his two henchmen tied up with no sign of Curtis and Keel. Looking round, he spotted movement in the rocks at the base of the cliff and let rip with the Uzi.

He was about to go and check the rocks when one of the men called him over to verify something.

Behind the rocks, two men lay very still. When he was sure that Ali was gone, Chris turned to Sam.

"We've got to see what's on the those lorries, I'm going to - Sam, are you okay?" The sudden grey pallor that had come over his partner concerned him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Chris," Sam said quietly, his own voice sounding very far away.

"What, are you hit? Where?"

"No, not hit." Sam showed Chris his left hand. A little yellow scorpion was embedded lifeless in his palm, "When I dove to the ground, when Ali..." the Englishman's words turned to garbage and his eyes glazed over.

"Shit!" Keeping half an eye out for Ali and his men, Chris delicately removed the dead scorpion, and shoved Sam's shirtsleeve up to give him room to work. There was only a tiny red welt where stinger had penetrated the skin, but Chris wasted no time in pulling a knife from his backpack and cutting a deep cross over the wound. Sam didn't even flinch.

Chris sucked and spat blood, trying to reduce the amount of poison in his partner's blood, even though it was obvious that enough had circulated to make Sam's death a very real danger. When he was satisfied he could do no more, he ripped a piece of his own shirt to make a bandage and a tourniquet.

Finally, he retrieved a Mars Bar from his pack, and dumping the chocolate on the ground, put the scorpion in the wrapper and this in turn into his pack.

Making sure the coast was clear, Chris half carried Sam to the jeep nearest to them, and buckled him in. Getting in the driver's seat he put his gun on his lap, and took a deep breath, knowing their chances of getting out were slim. When he started the engine, all eyes turned to stare.

He put his foot on the gas, and picked up his gun, shooting randomly at the group as he sped by. Returning fire could be heard pinging through the body of the vehicle, and Chris prayed to any god that might be listening that nothing vital would be hit.

The jeep sped over the bumpy road back to Cairo, Chris holding his foot firmly down on the accelerator and struggling to keep the car on the road. Glancing behind, two other jeeps were on his tail and shooting. He did not dare turn off the road, as speed was of the essence, and could only hope that when they got close enough to the city, their attack would cease.

He looked over at Sam periodically, and worried that his eyes were now closed and his breathing laboured. He was shivering despite the desert heat, and Chris knew that he did not have long. He desperately tried to remember how long it had taken Azmi to get to the site, tried to recall which side of the flyover the hospital had been, but panic was starting to set in, a dangerous reaction.

There was no sign of the city, and Chris gave in to the adrenaline coursing through his system, taking chances, pushing the vehicle over large potholes he might normally have gone round. A shot grazed past his shoulder, stinging and cracking the windscreen.

He threw the jeep onto two wheels to get round the next corner, bypassing a large sand dune, and had just righted the vehicle, when he saw the most beautiful sight in the world. The rocky road turned to tarmac not a mile ahead, and the city began not much further after that.

As the buildings loomed around him, first small dwellings, later large office blocks, Chris noticed the sound of gunfire had stopped. Looking back, the pursuing jeeps were nowhere to be seen. Chris whooped and wove through the traffic, driving like a native, and soon approached the hospital.

Screeching to a halt in the ambulance bay, he jumped out yelling for help. He unbuckled Sam from his seat, frightened now, when did Sam stop breathing? How long had his lips been blue?

Picking him up, Chris carried Sam into the hospital, ignoring the hands that tried to help him.

*****

The world swirled by Chris; hands took Sam away from him and people threw questions at him in a language that he did not understand. Someone spun him around, and it took everything he had not to react instinctively and attack the man in the white coat.

"English?" the doctor asked and Chris nodded in relief, "What do you know about the condition of your friend?"

"Scorpion, a scorpion stung him," his brain engaging, he reached carefully into his pack, drawing out the chocolate wrapper. "I put it in here. It's dead."

"Thank you," the doctor peered carefully inside the wrapper, and suddenly started shouting orders to which the staff responded with efficient urgency. "What is his name?" he asked Chris urgently, "How long ago has he stopped breathing?"

"Sam, his name's Sam, and I don't know, ten minutes absolute tops, could be a lot less, I don't know," Chris could not hide his anxiety, "I don't know."

A firm, capable nurse hustled him away into a quiet cubicle, and set about cleaning his grazed shoulder. It took Chris a long time to pull himself out of thinking about the wild ride back to Cairo. Was there anything more he could have done? He should have checked on Sam more often, more carefully. Please, please let Sam pull out of this.

He was aware that the nurse was talking to him, and he nodded vaguely, following her to another department. He guessed he was supposed to wait for news of Sam there.

An hour passed, and no one came to tell him what was going on. He tried to ask the nurses, and a passing doctor, but no one knew what was happening. He paced the waiting room, his temper becoming quickly fraught.

Eventually, the doctor arrived, looking at a chart and shaking his head.

The doctor seemed to think there was no hurry, and Chris's temper was on the verge of exploding, barely holding himself back from slamming the man up against the wall.

"The scorpion was of the highly lethal variety, did you know that?" the doctor asked.

"We'd been told it could kill in half an hour, that's all."

"It is a painful death, the poison paralyses all muscles until the victim dies of either a heart attack, or asphyxiation. Your friend succumbed to asphyxiation," the doctor paused, "Are you unwell?" he asked, noticing Chris's suddenly pale pallor.

"Yes, no," Chris swallowed as the words sunk in, Sam was dead, "I need some air," he tried to push past, but the doctor blocked him.

"First let me tell you that your friend breaths fine now. "

"What? I thought you just said he was dead?!" Chris staggered backward slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh. I am sorry, my English is not good for communicating effectively, I think." the doctor apologised. He has not yet passed over, and will certainly live for some time; however, his brain was without oxygen for an undetermined time. There could be problems. We will see when he becomes awake. If he is all there, then a little rest and he will be fine. If not, then we shall see."

The doctor smiled reassuringly and left, leaving Chris to sink weakly into a chair.

*****

Chris sat by Sam's bedside with his head in his hands, and a newspaper on his lap. He had got Sam to the hospital in time to save his life. Even though he lay almost lifeless still, he was breathing on his own, and his colour was healthy. It was just a matter of time before he woke up, and Chris had every faith that he would be fine.

But Chris could not get over how close it had been. After all, he was the one always getting into trouble, with Sam saving his ass. It wasn't supposed to be this way round. It occurred to him then, how much he relied on his partner. On the one hand, dangerous; in their line of work, relying on another was a death sentence, on the other; he couldn't picture working with another partner. The Brit had become as much a part of his life as - well there wasn't much else and that was the way he liked it.

Of course, being chewed out by Malone hadn't helped much either. His tone was just as hard and biting over the phone as it was in person. With a sigh, Chris picked up his newspaper, and settled down to wait for Sam, his eyes scanning the pages, but his brain failing to register any of the words.

When Sam finally opened his eyes, they were glazed, and Chris was afraid to move or speak, afraid of what Sam would be like.

"You goin' ta sit starin' at me all day?" Sam slurred.

"How's it going?" Chris asked, casually leaning forward and hitting the call button, unwilling for Sam to know how concerned he had been, and still was. Slurring couldn't be good.

"Like've gone ten roun's with Tyson," Sam tried to smile, but his face refused to work properly.

A nurse bustled in, closely followed by the doctor, who spent a long time examining Sam thoroughly. "You will be fine, and can leave here tomorrow," he pronounced. "You will get full functionality back very quickly. You must of course rest some very few days, but will be as good as new very soon."

The relief in the air, more from Chris than Sam, was almost palpable.

The doctor moved to leave the room, but hesitated, "Please," he said, "I beg of you, no more exploring the old places without escort," satisfied that his tourists had learnt their lesson, he left them alone.

*****

"You know, I could really get used to this," Sam sighed as he wiped his mouth with his napkin, "There's nothing like enjoying seafood in an outdoor restaurant, with the sun shining - what's the matter?"

Chris was looking sickly at the remains of Sam's dinner; "Well my steak was good, although I'm not sure what animal it came from, but your dinner - how can you eat food that looks at you?" the disgust was evident in his voice.

"It's no different from eating food that doesn't look at you." Sam explained.

"But it looks at you!" Chris tried to get his point across.

Sam rolled his eyes, deciding that educating his partner today was a waste of time. Suddenly he leaned forward, "Here she is," he said, nodding towards a sprightly elderly lady, just coming into the restaurant.

"I guess we go and wait for her in the bar, then." Chris commented.

Five minutes later, the partners were sitting at the bar of the Hilton in Luxor. They had arrived in Luxor two days before on the trail of van Dijk's second site. Malone had put them onto Lady Avery White as someone who would know every dig and tunnel in West Thebes; all they had to do was wait for her to turn up at the Hilton, as she frequently did. She had arrived early that day, and the Maitre D' had advised them that she always took a Pimms in the bar after dinner.

When Lady Avery White made her constitutional trip to the bar, she was startled to find her Pimms already waiting for her, but had the grace not to show it. The barman pointed out the two young gentlemen in the corner by the window, and deciding they looked harmless, after all, the darker one looked a lot like her son, went to join them.

When she approached the table, they both stood courteously, and the darker one pulled a chair out for her, "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and high. When she had settled, and they had introduced themselves, she asked, "What may I do for you, gentlemen?"

"A friend of yours, Harry Malone told us that you - " Chris began.

"Harry?" Lady White chuckled, "I haven't seen that young rascal in years! How is he?"

Chris choked on his beer.

"Oh, he's well, ma'am," said Sam, trying not to smile too much. "He told us that you were the most knowledgeable archaeologist in West Thebes. We're looking for a dig involving a Henry van Dijk that hasn't been registered."

"Now there's someone I wouldn't wish to cross paths with, " she shuddered, "He brings the profession down." she thought for a moment., frowning, "I suspect I know where he might be, though." She looked at the men over her glass, "If Harry's involved, can I take it you're on the side of justice?"

"Not always," said Sam, "But we try."

"Good enough, I suppose." she shrugged, "There have been people disappearing from my dig just north east of the Valley of Kings, and there are some new tunnels that are undermining my own. I've sent men to investigate, but they never came back; I believe van Dijk may be just north of my dig. I'll give you a map in the morning."

"Do you know where we can hire a good jeep?" asked Chris.

"My dear boy," Lady White smiled, laughter dancing in her eyes, "You won't get there by car. You can take my own car to my site, so long as you bring it back - I'll take the cost of it out of Harry's hide if you lose it - I'm going to be in town for a few days in any case.

"Now van Dijk must have road access somewhere, but I have no idea where it would be. There's only one road that goes by the Valleys of Kings and Queens and such, and I know of no way over other than through my site, and I think I would have noticed, don't you?

"At any rate, once you get to my site, you can take donkeys the rest of the way."

"Donkeys?" Chris spluttered incredulously.

"Donkeys are the standard mode of transport in West Thebes I can assure you. They can take you places where cars and motorbikes most assuredly cannot. The road was only built to keep the American tourists happy, you know."

"That doesn't surprise me," grinned Sam, "If there's one thing Chris has taught me, it's that Americans do like their home comforts and fast food."

Chris scowled, "At least I don't eat food that looks at me," he retorted.

Lady White threw Sam a politely puzzled look.

"King Prawns," he replied.

*****

"Hey, this is cool!" said Chris happily from his donkey, which was plodding up the mountain path.

"I'm g-glad you think so," replied Sam, who could not seem to get the hang of his animal's gait.

They both wore the native robes that the foreman of the White site had suggested they wear for comfort against the dusty wind that blew strong in the mountains. The path they were following was narrow, and Sam was a little nervous at the way his right foot was almost constantly hanging over the steep drop into the valley below. At least the donkey seemed confident of his own footing.

They reached a small plateau, and Chris turned his animal around. "Look over there!" Sam followed his partner' s gaze. Far below, the men working on the White site looked like ants, but to the West, between the low mountains, the Nile could be seen glittering in the sun. Luxor on it's opposite bank lay white and sprawling, and a tourist coach could be seen making it's way up the West Thebes road toward the Valley of Kings.

"Not a sight you see every day is it?" agreed Sam.

Chris grinned and headed his animal back in the direction of van Dijk's suspected site. Sam followed, grimacing as he bounced uncomfortably his saddle.

****

The van Dijk site was exactly where Lady White had thought, and the two agents left their donkeys in a sheltered alcove part way up the mountain. The White's foreman had warned them, that come dinnertime, if the animals were left alone, they would make their own way back to the White site. So they had left the donkeys untethered, figuring that f they had not got back to them by then, they would need something faster to get them out.

Like the White site, this was a dig that was obviously alive, with men digging and carefully brushing sand from excavated blocks of stone. A small group were examining shards and objects obviously found. There were two tunnels running from the closed valley. At the West side, a truck came in to be greeted by some of the men, which indicated that it must be the exit. At the East side, another truck was being unloaded, men taking crates inside. An old black Mercedes was parked near the East entrance.

Curtis and Keel made their way to the floor of the valley, their outfits enabling them to blend in with the men. They each carried a knife, a flashlight and a small camera with complete with sending devices along with their guns under their robes, and Chris had managed to procure from the Cairo hospital a small amount of anti-venom for those little yellow scorpions they were bound to find.

They each grabbed a crate from the truck, and followed the other men into the tunnel. The crate Chris was carrying was stamped 'US ARMY' while Sam's was unmarked. They had their proof, now they just needed pictures to validate it, preferably with van Dijk and/ or Cordani in them.

They dumped the crates in one of many small caves being used to store things, and ducked into the shadows until they were alone. Chris took some pictures and they both went back out into the main passage to investigate further inside.

Laughter and footsteps came towards them, and they backtracked, but more men were coming in laden with crates, Chris spotted a hole at head height in the wall, and motioned Sam to follow. They jumped up and crawled inside, waiting there in silence. The men walked past, and when it was quiet again, Sam made to move back out.

"Wait a minute," whispered Chris. "There's another way out back here." Sam heard his partner moving around, followed by a slithering sound and a grunt.

"Chris?" called Sam, turning around.

"Down here!" called his partner, from a hole in the floor. Sam looked down to see Chris looking back up at him. "Come on down, there's another passage back here, quieter too. You might want to get rid of the dress though; it doesn't make for easy climbing."

Sam chuckled and discarding his robes, slid down to join Chris. Whereas the main passage had been well lit, this one was in darkness, though light could be seen at one end of the passage. Chris had started walking towards the light when something gave under his foot, followed by a grating sound.

"Oops."

"Not again," groaned Sam, from behind him "Why is it always - " a wall came crashing down," - you?" Sam found himself suddenly talking to a stone wall. "Chris? Chris!" he called, but there was no answer. Most likely the wall was too thick.

He pulled out his flashlight and finding no other option, went back through the crawlspace, and back into the main passage.

Keeping to the shadows, Curtis made his way down the long passage managing to avoid any confrontation. The end of the corridor opened into a large room with large columns decorated with hieroglyphs, an archway in the left hand wall and piles of guns in the middle being repacked for shipping. Four men were busy with what could have been inventory lists, while two others stood guard, lazily cradling their Uzi's.

Above where he was standing in the shadows, Sam could see a ledge that ran around the room. Jumping up, he just about caught the edge, and hauled himself up. As long he kept close to the wall, he would not be seen by any of the men, but he needed pictures. Lying flat, he wriggled to the edge, camera in hand, and started snapping. When he was satisfied that he had enough, he sat back against the wall, and tried to send them back to base. There was no signal; too much rock in the way, he guessed.

*****

A little earlier, Chris had come to the same conclusion. He had tried calling to Sam when the wall had come between them, but had received no reply. With nothing else to do for his partner, sending the pictures he already had seemed like the sensible thing to do.

Giving up, he went into the lit passage. There was no one around, though a lot of noise could be heard to the right. The left seemed to lead back to the main passage, but cries of pain from the right attracted his attention.

The cries stopped, but Chris kept going until he came to another small passage on the right. Peeking round he saw a young woman about his own age with cropped blond hair. She was dressed in a cream vest and khaki shorts showing strong tanned legs, and hiking boots, with a pack dumped at the side. She was focussed on a slab of stone in front of her, carefully brushing away the dust.

A loud bang came from further up the corridor, and she turned suddenly to see Chris staring at her. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice strong, her accent English.

"I, er," Chris took in her big green eyes, "Just visiting," he said lamely.

"Well visit someone else, I'm busy," she turned back to the stone.

"What are you doing?" he asked, walking closer.

"What does it look like? Washing the dishes?" she snapped.

"Sorry I asked," Chris snapped back, "I was just interested."

The woman sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm just fed up with all these thugs Henry has around the place. He may only be using this place to hide his toys, but I actually happen to be interested in this place."

"What is this place anyhow?" asked Chris, crouching beside her.

"It's fascinating," A light came into her eyes as she spoke of her passion, "The main temple up here is dedicated to Seth, whom Henry of course, loves. But I think it must have been built at a time when Seth was ascending and Khorus was in decline, because there are little clues like this slab here; see the eye just here? That's the eye Seth gouged out and had to give back to Khorus. Wherever you are, so long as you don't fight Khorus, that symbol is your friend. There are slabs like this dotted all over the place that indicate that there either once was a temple to Khorus here, or underneath. Maybe there still is, and I would so love to discover it. Who knows what treasures or historical information is to be found?"

"Okay, I know who Seth is, and I've heard of Khorus..."

The girl laughed, "If I had a hero among the Egyptian gods, it would be Khorus. According to his own words in a passage from the Coffin Texts "I am Khorus, the great Falcon upon the ramparts of the house of him of the hidden name. My flight has reached the horizon. I have passed by the gods of Nut. I have gone further than the gods of old. Even the most ancient bird could not equal my very first flight. I have removed my place beyond the powers of Seth, the foe of my father Osiris. No other god could do what I have done. I have brought the ways of eternity to the twilight of the morning. I am unique in my flight. My wrath will be turned against the enemy of my father Osiris and I will put him beneath my feet in my name of 'Red Cloak'. Isn't that romantic?" she breathed.

"Umm," Red Cloak, Red Cloud, scary, thought Chris, "So you're a real, live Lara Croft."

"You can call me Lara if you like, Henry does," she laughed, then frowned, "You'd better get back to your guns, Henry doesn't like slackers. You must be new if you don't know that."

"I am new here, the name's Chris, and you're right, I should be going. Take care." He stood up and backed away.

"I will see you again." stated Lara smiling up at him.

Chris returned the smile wistfully, "You never know what might happen," he replied, but Lara was already engrossed in her slab once more.

*****

Sam made his way round the ledge to the archway, intending to drop down and investigate. At that moment, though there was no way he could without being seen. Deciding to wait for an opportunity, Sam leaned against the wall. And felt something give. Somewhere in his head a little voice groaned, 'Not again!' as he fell backwards into the hole that had not been there a second ago. A short ride down a chute, and Sam lay on his back on the floor of the room he had been waiting to get into with the muzzle of a rifle held in inch away from his right eye.

"Welcome to my parlour, Mr Curtis," came a cultured English voice from somewhere behind him, "Efri, let the boy up, there's a good chap."

Sam got to his feet and allowed himself to be disarmed and led to the chair that was offered on the other side of the table from his captor, "And you would be Henry van Dijk?" he asked recognising the man.

"I'm glad we all know who we are, Mr Curtis, Ali is a good employee that way. Now what shall we talk about whilst we await Mr Keel?"

"He'll be on his way back to Luxor to report by now," said Curtis pleasantly.

"On the contrary, dear boy, he's running around here somewhere. I like to be efficient so the valley is now sealed and your transports have been sent back home. I'm not going to waste my resources chasing Mr Keel in circles, rather I'll wait until he either does something stupid, or comes to me, much as you did. Tea?"

"Thank you. So when's Cordani coming to pick up his load, or do you deliver?" Sam changed the subject, not wanting to think about Chris just now.

"So you know about that? He'll be along in a couple of days. No matter, you won't be telling anyone. Do you play Senet? No? Well let me teach you."

*****

Chris had reached the area where all the noise had been coming from, and found himself an alcove he could watch from. The most obvious and shocking thing were the slaves; men and women, mostly European and with a handful of locals, about thirty of them, being made to work tunnelling through the rock. Several men stood over them with guns and whips, occasionally lashing out at a slave whose work was not enough.

One man tripped and tipped over a cart of rocks. The nearest slave driver started to rain blows down on the man, who lifted an arm in defence crying out as the whip bit into flesh.

Without thinking, Chris sprang forward, and grabbed the man from behind, trying to take the whip from him. He felt more than heard movement from behind him, and let go of the man with one arm, spinning to elbow the attacking man, and on the backspin catching the whip man in the jaw with his fist.

A whip wrapped itself around his neck, biting, and cutting off his air. He dug the fingers of one hand under whip, trying to loosen it, and moved to charge the man at the other end, but another whip snaked around the first, and he was caught between the two, with nowhere to run, and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. The two men held him like that until he collapsed to his knees, gasping.

He felt someone grab his free hand, and tried to fight them off, only to have the whips around his neck drawn tighter. Cold metal went around his free wrist, and still with the whips around his neck, he was dragged to a wall, and pulled to his feet. The manacle around his wrist was attached to the wall, and the second whip was removed, freeing his other hand. He tried to lash out, and the remaining whip drew tighter. He was pushed face first into the wall, and another manacle, another loop in the wall, and the other whip was released allowing him to breath again.

He felt the draft as his shirt was pushed up to his shoulders. Turning his head as far as he could, he could see the slaves studiously ignoring what was happening, including the man he had tried to help. He could not see behind him, but the whistling of the whip flying through the air was the only warning he had before the biting sting hit his lower back.

He remained silent for the first five lashes, burying his head into his shoulder, but after that, it became harder, grunts quickly giving way to screams before darkness threatened to overcome him.

Distantly he heard a familiar voice cry, "Stop!" He felt someone grab his hair, pulling his head back and squinted up to see Lara looking at him, cold and distant. She let him go, and turned back to the men, "Do with him what you have to, but that's enough of this," and leaving the men muttering, she walked back out the way she came.

Chris felt his shirt being pulled back down, and the manacles released, and thought about fighting his way out, but blacked out before he could finish that thought.

*****

Sam could not get any more information out of van Dijk, and had given up for the moment on escaping. Whilst he was being treated as a guest, the armed men at the entrance to the room gave him no doubt as to his true status. Although he would never admit it, he was enjoying his games of Senet, an ancient game much like chess, and he had just won his first game.

"Very well done, Mr Curtis, but I do think its a waste to have to sacrifice an intelligent man such as yourself. Are you sure you won't work for me?"

"Not in this lifetime, Mr van Dijk," Sam replied pleasantly.

"No. I would have called you a liar if you had agreed, anyway." van Dijk's attention moved to the door. "Ah, your friend has arrived."

Sam turned to see Chris being dragged into the room, and dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. When there was no response from his partner apart from a deep groan, Sam jumped from his chair to be stopped by a rifle in his face. He looked beseechingly at van Dijk.

"Is Mr Keel disarmed?" van Dijk asked, and at his men's affirmation, said to Efri, "Let Mr Curtis see to Mr Keel. I wouldn't want to be accused of being inhospitable."

Sam knelt by Chris, wincing at the raw welts around his neck, and rolled him onto his back. Chris yelled, and opened his eyes, anger and terror mixed there. He rolled back onto his side, and Sam touched the black material of Chris's shirt. His fingers came away sticky and red, and he lifted his partner's shirt, wincing at the way the material was sticking against the open lesions.

"He needs a hospital." Sam told van Dijk flatly.

"I'm sorry, Mr Curtis, but here is where my hospitality ends." He nodded to Efri, and Sam found himself grabbed by rough hands. He didn't fight, though, knowing he would have to leave Chris behind if he did. He would get both of them out of here later.

*****

Curtis and Keel were thrown into a dead end passage that had a barred gate forming a makeshift cell. A single light outside the gate was their only illumination.

Chris pulled himself shakily to his feet, against Sam's protests.

"I'm good," he said, clenching his jaw against the pain, "I just gotta move, so I don't stiffen up."

"Let me get that shirt off, and at least clean - "

"With what!" snapped Chris, fighting down the urge hit something, then more calmly, "Sorry, Sam, I just have to ride this out, it'll get better."

"Shouldn't we at least get your shirt off? The air will do it more good."

"Maybe - No, leave it on, it's clogging the bleeding. I'll function better if I've still got most my own blood," he tried a grin, but it turned into a grimace.

"If you say so," Sam was not convinced, but there was little he could do right now. He looked around the dead end, hoping that just maybe there was a convenient rock or moving slab. There wasn't.

*****

It must have been well into the evening when Curtis and Keel were taken to yet another chamber. This one was very similar to the Temple of Seth in Cairo with the large statue of Seth presiding over the room, almost touching the ceiling thirty feet up in the air, and the coffin with the spiked lid in the middle. This statue though, had a hole running through the centre of its chest, no more than two inches in diameter.

The agents found themselves bound hand and foot, kneeling on a platform opposite the statue, and were mildly surprised when a trembling Ali was pushed next to them.

"So, what did you do wrong?" asked Chris.

"You know, It's your fault!" the man spat, "You should be dead. If you were dead I would not be so."

"Oh, great, dead if we do, dead if we don't." Chris replied tetchily.

Sam recognised the signs and knew they were dangerous. Chris was in pain, and his temper, ever short was now almost non-existent.

"Calm down," he said. "We need a plan."

"Oh, I've got a plan," Chris whispered right back, "we kick their asses all the way to hell, or wherever it is they believe in."

"Okay, that's a start, now lets work on how we're going to get out of these ropes." Sam's tone was sarcastic.

Chris opened his mouth to reply, but both men were told to be quiet as chanting started. A complex ceremony of chanting, singing, and parades of black, gold and red robed men lasted what seemed an age, all centred on the coffin and the statue. At last van Dijk came in, wearing a mask of Seth, and sat on the plinth at the statue's feet.

Ali was pulled to his feet and stripped naked where he stood and a white loincloth wrapped about his middle. A golden goblet was pressed to his lips and at first he refused. All eyes stared at him, and the man with the goblet waited patiently. At last Ali spoke bitterly, staring straight at van Dijk, "If I am to die anyway, it might as well be with willingness." Then he drank from the goblet.

His eyes glazed over, and his stance grew straighter, proud almost. A plaster mask of Seth was placed over his head, and his hands and feet unbound. He walked slowly and of his own accord down to the ground, over to the coffin and climbed in. For a while, nothing happened, and then a faint chanting began. As it grew louder, the lid descended, a jackal masked man paying out the rope that held it suspended with infinitesimal slowness.

Sam and Chris looked on in horrified fascination as the lid met the edge of the coffin, and then sank below. It halted its progress as a scream rang out from inside the stone, and then continued its journey, slower than before. The scream grew louder, ending abruptly, and a few seconds later, the lid stopped, its job done.

Someone put a large amphora to the tap on the side of the coffin and filled it with the blood that came forth. When it was full, the tap was allowed to spew its remaining contents onto the floor while another goblet was filled with the blood and given to van Dijk. The Englishman drank from the goblet and gave it back so that it could make the rounds of the other spectators.

The chanting stopped, and the lid was pulled back up as the coffin was prepared for its next victim. Van Dijk approached the two agents, neither of whom could believe what just happened. Where was the real world?

"You don't really believe in this stuff do you?" asked Chris.

"Oh, but I do, Mr Keel, I used to be a sceptic, but I've see things here that have converted me." Van Dijk's voice echoed inside his mask. "Poor Ali," he sighed, "But it had to be done, he failed when he let you escape. Why couldn't you have stayed locked in that temple? Two bodies of foreigners trapped by their own stupidity in a place they never should have been in, wouldn't have attracted any attention whatsoever, so simple."

"Sorry to spoil your fun," Chris mocked, "Bad news, it's our job to escape and besides which, our people know where we are."

"Not to arrive in time to stop you two dying," replied van Dijk evenly.

"They won't let you murder anyone else," retorted Chris angrily.

"Murder, hmmm," van Dijk appeared to think for a moment, "It's not technically murder, it's self sacrifice, aided suicide at worst. According to texts, Seth doesn't like unwilling sacrifices, so the little brew in the goblet over there makes the subject willing. You saw poor Ali. Is that really murder?"

"It's murder any way you look at it!" Chris responded.

"You've been rather quiet, Mr Curtis, not plotting I hope?"

Sam just stared at van Dijk calmly and in silence with a small, knowing smile on his face. He didn't have any ideas, but the thought that he might, would wind van Dijk up, maybe enough to make a mistake.

"So," said van Dijk, "Who's to be first?"

"I will, " said Sam, the smile still on his lips.

"Sam!" Chris protested, "You can't let this overblown piece of shit - I mean, not without a fight!"

"And you're in no shape to do anything," responded Sam calmly.

"Oh my, how entertaining. Lovers tiff?" he looked at them both speculatively, "I think Mr Curtis should wait his turn. Mr Keel, since you are clearly so eager to die, you can go first. I have no more masks, but I'm sure Seth won't mind."

Hands pulled Chris his feet and he fought them as best he could, more on principle than effectiveness. They stripped him naked, having trouble with his shirt. They ripped it off hard, making him yell and fall to his knees again. They dragged him to his feet again and put a white loincloth about his middle.

Sam tried to head butt the nearest man but only fell over, making them laugh.

They put the goblet to Chris's lips, and naturally he refused to drink. They shoved him face first against the wall behind and pulled his head back, pinching his nose. He tried hard to spit the bitter drink out, but they kept pouring until he had swallowed enough.

They waited until his eyes glazed over, then released his hands and feet. He stood where he was, a robot awaiting its orders. One of the men whispered in his ear and he turned to walk down the steps.

Sam was grabbed and stripped naked in his turn, a white loincloth put in place. He too, was shoved against the wall and forced to drink from the goblet. The voice of one of the men whispered in his ear, "Wait and watch, feel and react." His left hand started to itch.

To Chris, the room had changed, become lighter; the voice whispered in his ear had said "Go down the steps, Seth awaits you," and when he had reached the ground, he had looked up. Standing by the coffin stood Seth. Not the statue, not the man who wore his mask, but Seth himself, beckoning, offering to welcome him home.

He heard his name being called, but ignored it, his attention riveted on the powerful being before him.

"Chris!" he shouted, "Chris stop!" but his partner kept going toward the coffin in the middle. He climbed in, and as before, the chanting began and the lid descended.

Sam's bodyguards loosened their hold, their attention on the macabre event take place for the second time, and he pulled away. They did not react, though the ropes that still bound him were effective in preventing his escape. Suddenly, a hand clamped over his mouth and female voice said, "I'm a friend, don't move."

He felt the ropes being cut, and the voice said, "Take your friend's and your clothes and go to the end of the passage, go left and left again. Wait for us there."

He hesitated, and he got his first good look at her. She radiated power in her robes even in the shadows. She was in the full regalia of an ancient Egyptian queen, one that would put Cleopatra to shame.

"Go," she commanded a small frown marring her lovely features, "I will do everything I can for your friend. You would only die for him."

Wasting no time, Sam did as he was bidden, a part of him railing against his own actions, telling him to get back in there and pull Chris out. He knew the drug was making him follow her orders, but he was not the blind automaton that Ali had been, or Chris seemed to be. He absently scratched at his left hand.

****

Chris watched the spikes coming down towards him, unflinching as they dripped red onto his flesh. He knew that when his coffin closed, the door would open to take him home.

The lid reached the rim of the coffin, and started the last stage of it's journey. Chris felt the spikes touch, then dent his skin.

"Stop!" The commanding female voice halted the man paying out the rope. All eyes turned to the woman that stepped out of the shadows and onto the platform.

Her dark hair was piled on her head, and her dark, heavily kohled eyes were luminous in her strong, beautifully perfect face. She wore a robe of gold complimented by the gold crown upon her head.

Murmuring began among the people gathered, growing into an undulating whisper of "Isis! Isis!"

Van Dijk wondered whether to unmask the woman, but withheld his tongue. The rules must be obeyed; it would not matter that this woman was a mortal to these people. They had recognised her as Isis, and would turn on him if he made a move against her, even in his own temple.

She spoke again. "This man is under my son's protection. You will not have him!" Men scuttled to pull the coffin lid back up, glancing nervously at van Dijk. "Bring him to me!"

The men pulled Chris unresisting out of the coffin, and dragged him to the platform, telling him to go up the steps.

When Chris was by her side, she retreated into the passageway taking him with her. She pushed a stone, and a door slammed down closing them off from the main chamber.

"What a mess," she muttered and pulled Chris down the passage to the room where she had instructed Sam to wait.

*****

Sam was pacing anxiously when the woman appeared dragging Chris behind her. As soon as she entered she pushed a knob, closing the door and pushed another, opening a second door in the adjacent wall.

"Get that loincloth off and get dressed," she instructed Chris, who obeyed her as an automaton might.

"How long will he be like this?" Sam asked, as she threw off her wig, revealing cropped blond hair, and discarded her robe.

"I have no idea, no one's actually lived this long to find out." she said. "I see you didn't need an instruction to get dressed, no one else has resisted the potion, how did you?"

"I honestly don't know," Sam was puzzled, the small amount of the drug that had effected him had dissipated rapidly, yet he had consumed easily as much as Chris. He scratched furiously as his hand. "Thanks for pulling us out of there by the way. Who are you?"

"Don't thank me yet, I saved you from certain death, but I'm throwing you into probable death." she was rubbing at her eyes with a sponge, and looking in a powder compact to try and get rid of her makeup, "He calls me Lara," she nodded at Chris, "you can too. You'll have to go down there," she pointed to the passage. "No one's been down there in thousands of years, I only discovered the passage a little while ago. It leads to a temple below, and there should be a way out. It could be blocked, and there's no telling what traps or beasties there might be. It's worth a shot though."

She noticed Sam scratching at his hand and caught it in her own, examining the angry little red welt. "What bit you?" she asked.

"Scorpion in Cairo a few days ago," Sam replied pulling his hand away, and helping Chris finish getting dressed.

"Little yellow thing?" asked Lara.

"That would be it," he replied, standing back from his unresponsive partner.

"Interesting. Its blood is used in the potion, maybe it knows its own."

With a grating sound, the first door to the room opened, and van Dijk stalked in angrily.

"I knew you would be here, Lara," he said, "Now I want those two dispatched."

"I'm sending them down into the catacombs," she said coldly.

"You've found them?" Van Dijk seemed taken aback.

"Just this afternoon," she confirmed, "It'll be weeks before we can get organised to excavate properly; they can take their chances with whatever's down there."

Van Dijk looked at her, considering. "All right, we play this game your way."

"Go with Sam, do what he tells you," she said to Chris, giving Sam a flashlight. "Sam, you'll have to tell him exactly what to do, and I mean exactly."

Sam pulled Chris into the passageway, and as the door closed he caught part of the continued conversation.

"I don't understand why you did that, Lara."

Sam could hear her sigh, "I did what I had to, father," And the door thumped shut.

*****

Chris did not really understand what was going on. He had patiently awaited Seth in the casket, and then a woman they called Isis had taken him away. A woman that to Chris's drugged eyes looked like a pretty girl with an exquisitely beautiful woman superimposed over her.

When they joined Sam, he became confused. He knew who Sam was, but he wasn't part of this world. Sam was part of the high tech, fire and guns world that Chris lived in every day. But the world he was in now, a world of gods and goddesses, avatars and human sacrifice, was not where Sam belonged.

When the girl took her robes off, the beautiful woman vanished leaving the girl alone. Lara. Her name was Lara, and like him, she belonged to both worlds. He remembered thinking that he liked Lara. He wasn't sure now because the other had been so perfect, Lara couldn't possibly compare.

When van Dijk came into the room, the Seth followed. Van Dijk was supposed to be a follower of Seth, but it was obvious to Chris that Seth was bringing death to van Dijk.

Lara told him to follow Sam, so he did, neither knowing nor caring where they went. In this new passage he felt suddenly very much at home. The home of his spirit. No, not home, this wasn't his heritage; but a place to be welcome and safe. And even as this fleeting thought passed, he knew nothing would hurt him here.

They walked for a long time, and gradually, Chris could feel the safe world slipping away; the cold, hard world that was his reality took back control and everything started to hurt.

Sam was getting tired of having to give Chris directions every time there was a step or a block to climb over, or a hole to be jumped across. A headache was starting to thump its way persistently into his consciousness, and he was tired of getting no response from Chris apart from blind obedience. He wanted his partner back.

Finally he stopped and yelled at Chris. Yelled at him to snap out of it, to get a grip, to not leave him alone. He told him how selfish he was being, how inconsiderate and rude he was, and could he please, please talk to him. Even an insult would do, anything to tell him Chris was still in there.

Giving up, Sam sat down against the wall, and told Chris to do the same. Sam lowered his head onto his knees, and tried to blink away the headache that was trying very hard to bash its way out of his skull. It occurred to him that neither he nor Chris had eaten or drunk properly for hours. If what Lara had said was true, that no one had been down here in thousands of years, there was no chance of finding anything to eat or drink.

There were certainly spider webs about, though not in any great number, and the passage was full of uneven rocks and holes. Blocks had fallen out of the ceiling here and there, and the single flashlight wasn't enough to keep them both from stumbling. It was only a matter of time before one of them gave themselves more than skinned knee, whether it was Chris still on a different planet, or himself getting too tired to think straight. The air was clean though full of dust, which gave Sam hope that somewhere there might be a way out.

" - ts..." the sound came from Chris, and Sam pulled him round, shining the flashlight in his face. The glazed look was gone, to be replaced by a dullness that was receding even as he watched.

"Say it again, Chris," he begged, "Tell me again."

"It hurts."

"What, where does it - oh god, your back, I didn't even think - " Sam pulled Chris away from the wall. The shirt was well and truly stuck to his back, and Sam decided to leave it be for now. "Are you okay, mate?" Stupid question, really.

"Wh - where are we?" Chris gasped, trying to get his head together, and get a grip on the pain.

"Under Seth's temple somewhere, beyond that I really don't have a clue."

"Oh. I had a dream..."

"It wasn't a dream, Chris, you got this close to being Swiss cheese."

"Oh. So, Seth and Isis are real then?"

"What? No, they're just mythological figures." Sam hoped the drug would get out of Chris's system fast; this conversation was getting weird.

"Oh." Chris sensed Sam was getting a little freaked out, and decided not to say any more. He got to feet and spent a few minutes stretching as best he could without wincing too much. "I don't supposed you remembered to bring any water with you?"

"No, it slipped my mind, sorry." Sam snapped.

"Hey, come on," Chris crouched in front of his partner, "We can get out of this; it's just some musty old ruins, so long as we don't go pressing any strange knobs when we're not supposed to, we'll be fine."

Sam laughed, his headache feeling just a little bit better, "Let's get going," he said getting to his feet, "It's good to have you back, mate." He clapped Chris on the back and they both winced, "Sorry."

*****

Eventually, the passage ended in a large, high square room with no apparent exit, and an open channel with flowing water in the middle. Through the pounding in his head, Sam recognised salvation, but Chris was already there on his stomach, taking first a tentative sip, and then gulping the fluid down like there was no tomorrow, which in all probability there wasn't.

"It's clean, Sam," Chris said, wiping his mouth.

"A bit late now if it's not," said Sam, leaning down next to his partner. The water was indeed crystal clear, though shallow and running very fast. He scooped up a handful and it tasted like mountain water. His headache receded as he drank.

Chris and Sam spent a long time searching the room for a way out with no luck. After spending time poking about in dark corners, Sam came back to the middle of the room to find Chris staring at something.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Up there, see the eye?" Chris pointed the flashlight to one wall where crumbled stone lay at the foot. About twelve feet up there was a hieroglyph representing an eye.

"Yeah, you think that's the doorknob?" asked Sam.

"Lara said the eye was always your friend. Lets see if that's true."

"You didn't tell me you'd met Lara before."

"Didn't seem important at the time," Chris shrugged, colouring slightly, "She's just an archaeologist I met upstairs."

Sam stood and against the wall under the eye, and made a stirrup with his hands. "You know that she's van Dijk's daughter?"

"Do what?" Chris put his foot in Sam's hands, and found himself too far below the eye. "Going up!" he warned the Brit before standing on his shoulders. Now, he could just about feel the eye above him.

"I heard them talking when were getting shut down here; she called him 'father'."

"Makes sense, I guess," Chris grunted as he felt something give a little and he put more effort in.

Sam winced as the American's boots ground into his shoulders. "In what way?"

"A couple of things; she called him Henry a lot, and she holds a lot of authority with the hired help. To be honest I thought she was his girlfriend." The centre of the eye finally gave.

"You like her, don't you?" Sam said, recognising the false nonchalance his friend always tried to put over when he didn't want anyone to think he was bothered by something.

"Not like you mean," Chris replied, jumping to the ground, "She's just - she kind of reminds me of someone, is all."

Sam decided not to push as they made their way over to the doorway that had opened up.

The new room was perfectly round, with stairs leading up in the opposite wall. A plain fireplace with a pile of wood next to it, lay darkly cold. The ceiling was domed, and looked to have once had an opening at the apex, though rotting wooden slats now blocked it. Directly beneath that stood the room's only decoration, a ten-foot tall statue of a man with the stylised head of a hawk.

'No,' thought Chris, 'A falcon,' and it seemed to be looking directly at him.

Paint still clung in places to the stone, indicating that he once was adorned brilliantly in black and gold with dark blue trim. Around his neck hung a golden amulet, and his hands rested on the pommel of a long double-handed sword.

Sam went to touch the sword in awe, but Chris pulled him away toward the stairs, "Come on, it's just bit of metal, you can make like a tourist later." Sam rolled his eyes, Chris was getting cranky; he must be hurting. Neither man saw the statue's eyes glow blue. If they had, they would probably have put it down to the reflected light of the torch.

Chris jumped up the stairs without waiting for Sam, and immediately fell back down with a cry of pain. Sam ran the light up the stairs and found the loose step that Chris had fallen from. He partner was lying at the bottom of the stairs writhing in agony.

"Where does it hurt?" asked Sam, concern mixed with resignation.

"Where the hell do you think?" grated Chris, "My ankle, too."

Sam took Chris's left boot and sock off, examining the warm skin beneath. It was already swelling, and Sam replaced the sock and boot quickly.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" asked Chris, propped up on his elbows.

Sam smiled, "Just a sprain, but you'll have problems walking on it for a while. The boot will keep it braced, but once you take it off again, it won't go back on. Stay here; I'm going to find you a walking stick."

Sam headed toward the fireplace, but partway over the floor, the flashlight gave out. He felt his way, and jumped in surprise as he walked into the statue. He must have veered toward the centre of the room. He pushed himself back from the statue, regaining his balance, when a wooden pole brushed his hand. He took it, running his hand up and down. It seemed perfect for his needs.

He felt his way back to the wall; it seemed closer than it should have been if he had been in the centre of the room. He felt his way round the wall, until he reached the stairs. The flashlight suddenly came on.

Sam concentrated on getting Chris to his feet, and having him use the tall purpose made staff to walk with.

"I feel useless," Chris moaned, "I'm going to have to give you the honorary title of my mother, if I'm not careful."

Sam laughed as they climbed the stairs. Back in the round room, the statue of Khorus was back in its accustomed place at the centre, its hands folded over the empty air where his sword was now missing. Even after the light had gone, its eyes flashed blue.

At the top of the stairs, it was Sam's turn to trip the next room into action. Circular blades spun from the floor and ceiling as well as the walls to either side blocking them from the door out of the room. But unlike the temple near Cairo, these blades were old and rusted with many broken, some gears behind the walls screamed as some of the blades refused to move where cogs had broken or rotted away completely.

In some ways the disrepair was worse than if all the blades had been running smoothly. Any pattern there once had been was now gone. Sam saw a line of least risk through, and pointed it out to Chris. "Do you think you can make it?"

"A walk in the park," Chris grinned. "Your turn to go first, though."

Sam took a deep breath and ran. He jumped, spun and dived, the final, broken blade throwing him out the other side with a blow to his hip. He lay gasping for a few minutes until he could feel his right leg again. He knew he was lucky to have gotten away with what felt like a prize-winning bruise.

Chris hesitated. He wasn't scared as such, but he knew with his injuries he would be a lot slower than Sam. Gritting his teeth he leapt forward staff in hand, ready to go down fighting.

And go down he did, almost immediately, a blade spinning down toward his head. With blades to either side, he could not roll out; so he pushed his staff up to meet it, hoping it might just block it.

The blade spun down faster and faster and stopped dead the instant it touched the staff. The whole room ground to a standstill. Chris held his breath for a second, pushing himself back out. He carefully removed the staff but the blades stayed still.

He stepped gingerly through the rest of the blades, ending up next to Sam. The instant he was safe, the blades began again. "The staff stopped it," Chris said awestruck, "Where did you get it?"

"There's a loose slab under your foot. It could have been coincidence," gulped Sam, who had nearly died of a heart attack when the Chris had gone down under the blade.

"Yeah, that must be it. That definitely is it in fact now lets go before anything else freaky happens." Chris hobbled through the door.

They were now in a short passage with a door at the other end, the knob right next to it. Chris was about to press the knob when a voice drifted down to them from somewhere above their heads.

"Tomorrow, Marcus dear chap," it was definitely van Dijk, "two thirty it is. I have the toys and medication ready for your transport even now... yes... yes, I see... I'll see you then... yes, it's been a pleasure doing business.... absolutely... goodbye."

"We might not have the pictures, but we've got the information," said Sam, "Malone should be happy."

"Malone is never happy," replied Chris, "It would violate his own private constitution." When no more voices were forthcoming, he pushed the knob and the door swung partly out. Curtis and Keel slipped through the narrow gap into the morning sun to find boulders and smaller rubble blocking the door from opening completely.

"You made it then," Lara appeared from around a boulder and smiled at Chris.

"No thanks to you," snapped Sam, "Did you know there was an entrance here? You could have - "

"No," she said, "I only finished getting the slab translated this morning. Evidently I was in the right area, but I only found it when I heard you open the door." her eyes glittered with excitement, "What's it like in there? Is it well preserved? Do we need diggers? Were there any -?"

"Whoa!" exclaimed Chris, "Your guy's in there, and you don't need diggers; just watch your step. Now can we please get out of here?"

"Sure, of course," Lara waved somewhere behind her. "Take my jeep, I can radio for another." She pushed past Curtis, and stopped by Keel long enough to grab his shoulder, "I will see you again, sometime," she said merrily before disappearing through the door.

"She likes you," grinned Sam limping toward the jeep.

"Shut up." Chris hobbled after him.

"You like her, and she likes you, so what's the problem?"

"Shut up!"

"What? All I'm saying is - "

"Shut! Up!" But Chris was grinning as he shouted the last.

*****

"Stop!" cried Chris as Sam drove the narrow trail toward the main road. Sam slammed on the brakes.

"What?" Sam looked at Chris with some consternation. His eyes had glazed over again and he was shivering.

"A minute - wait - "

Elsewhere, the statue stood in darkness; it's blue eyes starting to glow, becoming brighter, eventually bright white-hot blue. When it was done, the blazing orbs extinguished themselves. Footsteps could be heard on the stairs and the statue waited for its next visitor as patiently as it had waited the eons for its last visitor.

" - a minute," gasped Chris, his eyes suddenly clear. "We've got to go back!"

"We've got to get out of here! Get the information to Malone! Get you to a ho-"

"Sam, turn the damned car around, or I'll kick you out and do it myself!"

Sam turned the car around, alarmed by the urgency in his partner's voice, "Back where we came from?"

"Yes, no, keep following the trail; it's a sure bet we'll end up back at van Dijk's site."

"What, and drive straight into the middle of it? You're insane!"

Chris looked at Sam mutely. It was difficult to explain, and Sam was probably better off not knowing. Maybe he was insane, but the feeling that he needed to get back to Seth's temple was overpowering. He had to get there at absolutely any cost, and if he had to take Sam out to do it, then at that moment he knew he would.

But Sam had every faith in his partner's instincts, however insane and even if it did mean he had to follow blindly. It had served them well in the past.

The trail did indeed take them onto the dirt road that lead straight into van Dijk's site. They settled for the bold approach and drove straight in, parking by the entrance to the temple.

With no weapons of their own, they ducked and dodged bullets, and ran as best they could through the temple, searching for the room with the coffin.

Eventually they found it, with Henry van Dijk examining hieroglyphs on the coffin. He looked up in surprise. "You're alive!" he exclaimed. "How -?"

Sam pointed to Chris, "He's got powerful friends, what can I say?"

Van Dijk eyed Chris who was hesitantly limping with the staff's aid towards the statue, ignoring him. There was something odd about the staff; it's presence grated against van Dijk's nerves for reasons he could not fathom.

Without knowing exactly why, he ordered some of his men to stop Keel and Curtis at any cost. Sam found himself quickly overwhelmed by the nearest group of men and ended up being held securely by two of them.

Six men set upon Chris, and he pushed them off, standing legs spread for balance and spinning the staff. The men could not get near him. He feinted out; sending them all back a step, then threw it at the statue. Unerringly it flew into hole in the statues chest. For a split second it looked like a great double-handed sword, then all hell broke loose.

A great wind blew through the chamber, bringing with it the sound of an enormous animal in pain.

A flash of light bowled Chris and his attackers over, leaving them all lying still on the ground. Sam and his captors ducked, shielding their eyes. When they could see again, the men ran away, leaving Sam to do as he pleased.

Something grated in the ceiling, and a great slab moved allowing the daylight in, the shadows being chased away, running in fear from the wrath of Ra, or the light of Khorus, or maybe both.

Henry van Dijk stood frozen in shock as his private little empire fell to pieces. The wood and metal that held the slab up against the roof was no longer strong enough to hold it up now that it had been moved, and bits of stone and wood rained down on them, the slab creaking and slipping inch by inch.

Sam looked on in horror as he realised that the slab would fall exactly where Chris and the others were lying, near the coffin.

Van Dijk shook away the shock and ran to the statue, and climbing up, he tried to prise the staff out, but it was welded firmly in to Seth's chest. The statue started to shake, and van Dijk found it difficult to hold on.

Sam sprinted over to Chris, who was out cold and hooked his hands under his friend's armpits, hauling him behind the coffin, sheltering him with his own body, as the debris continued to rain down. He thought about getting some of the other men out of the way, but the slab was rocking precariously, now, and it was his responsibility to make sure at least one of them got out alive. At that moment, he did not know what whether Chris would be in any state to get himself out alive. Responsibility; that was a laugh. If he had been responsible, he would never have let Chris drag him back here.

With a scream, van Dijk flew off the shaking statue, somersaulting back towards Sam and Chris. He slammed into the coffin, and lay there stunned.

An instant later, the slab fell. Sam watched it fall almost in slow motion. He turned away as it hit the bodies of the men lying below, thankful that the crashing of rocks drowned out the squelch of crushed bodies.

The chain holding the coffin lid up slipped its knot, and van Dijk screamed as it thundered down towards him. Sam almost retched as the blood poured out of the tap all over his arm. A sharp pain on the back of his neck, and Sam knew no more.

*****

From that moment in the jeep when he had known he had to get back here, Chris had viewed everything as if a passenger in his own body once more. Now, as consciousness seeped back in, it took a little while for him to realise that he was back in control. His vision was full of big black spots swimming around and the daylight above hurt his eyes. Come to that, every part of him hurt, centring in his back and ankle.

Something heavy was lying on top of him, and something warm was lapping at his left cheek. He turned his head to see the blood pouring from the tap to form a puddle around him. Them. Sam was on top of him, unmoving. Chris pulled himself out from under his partner slowly and painfully sending little red jagged lightening bolts through the black spots that still danced in front of him.

A large dusty mark on Sam's back with a fist sized stone laying nearby told the story. He thought that he should get them both out of there, but he must have blacked out for a few minutes, because the next thing he knew, someone was stroking his forehead gently. He opened his eyes, and looked into green eyes.

"How are you feeling, Chris?" asked Lara.

"Felt better," Chris replied, trying to lift himself off the floor and failing back. His right arm was handcuffed to Sam's right foot. Sam was similarly cuffed.

"Hey, you'd better rest," she paused, "So you're CI5, then."

"That a problem for you?" he asked, shaking the cuff.

"Could be, but not at this exact moment," she looked around, "Have you seen Henry?"

Chris shook his head, but a mumble came from the floor, "We're swimming in him," Sam groaned.

"Eh? Oh!" exclaimed Lara, while Chris just looked sick. Lara's face went through a variety of emotions; from shock to denial, through anger and grief, to finally settle on cold calculation.

She ran out of the room to reappear a few minutes later with one of the cameras. "You can send stuff with this, can't you? Can you send voice?"

"Yes," said Chris, "But it only goes one way."

"It's enough to get you out of here," She crouched in front of the two men, "Now listen carefully, I have some things to do that will take me a couple of hours at most; I'm going to leave you shut in here while I do what I have to do. When I'm done, I'll send a message giving the exact coordinates of this place so that help should be with you quickly. I'll let the slaves go before I leave, too, they've suffered far too much."

"What are doing?" asked Chris sadly, "You can't be in the same business as your father, you love your work too much."

Lara laughed, "No, silly, Henry was far too crude, although he did teach me everything he knew. And yes, I do love my work, but I'm no archaeologist; I'm a thief, a procurer of ancient artefacts. I love Egyptian mythology, and have done my research for this site, but I'm only on holiday, laying low for a while. Finding Khorus's temple was a bonus, well, the amulet was at any rate. Its mate is at the British Museum in London. I know someone who would pay handsomely for the pair."

With that, she blew Chris a kiss and walked out of the chamber, locking them both inside with the dead.

*****

The statue's eyes glowed. Its amulet was missing, and an observer might have said that the statue was angry.

*****

Twenty-four hours later, the site was deserted. A lone truck came onto the site and Marcus Cordani climbed down from the cab.

Henry van Dijk met him, and shook his hand. He showed Marcus the schedule of items he was buying, and Marcus smiled a cruel smile while accepting.

Henry van Dijk snapped his fingers, and Marcus Cordani found himself under the gaze of a dozen CI5 men and women. He looked at Henry van Dijk in shock, and attacked him when he removed his beard.

The CI5 agents held Cordani back, placing him under arrest, and Malone rubbed the remains of the glue from his chin. 'A job well done,' he thought.

*****

Forty-eight hours later, Chris Keel and Sam Curtis were released from the London hospital. Sam had been kept under observation for quite a bad concussion and Chris had been kept in for the infection that had got into his back, and they both went through checks that no remaining traces of the drug were in their systems.

Sam dropped Chris at his apartment and went home for a much-looked forward to, good nights sleep in his own bed.

Chris hobbled to his apartment using his crutch for support; luckily the ankle had only been sprained, albeit very badly, and it was already feeling better.

He checked his mail and got a beer, disregarding the doctor's orders regarding alcohol and painkillers. He went to his bed for a lay down, hoping he might sleep, because he had not slept a wink since Egypt. Except for when they had given him a sedative.

He looked habitually at his wedding photo. In front of it stood a little box wrapped in plain paper. Deciding it was too small to explode, although some part of him told him that was a silly assumption to make, he opened it.

Inside was a store jewellery box with a silver Eye of Khorus on a leather necklace inside. A slip of paper inside said, "Chris, till I see you again, Lara."

*****

The statue's eyes glowed blue once more, ever growing until white-hot blue fire lit the room. The light would have blinded anyone who might have been in the room, and it kept blazing until, with sudden finality, it burnt out.

*****

Finally asleep, Chris tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find any peace. In the wedding photo, the happy couple smiled knowingly.

*****

The wind whipped past him as he soared the desert's currents, rising with the heat, falling with the cool breezes. He felt the pull to the North and with a heavy heart climbed the skyways, leaving his home far behind.

*****

Curtis and Keel had been summoned to Malone's office for a debriefing, and they were pleasantly surprised to see Lady Avery White.

"Your reports were very concise," commended Lady White, "but I do require some clarification on a couple of points."

Malone broke in, "Lady White has looked over van Dijk's site, albeit briefly, and I have asked her to clear things up."

"Thank you, Harry, now Mr Keel, what exactly did you throw at the statue of Seth?"

"A staff," said Chris, "A plain old wooden staff. Sam found it down in the catacombs."

"Mr Curtis?"

"I pretty much walked into it in the dark when I was looking for something to support Chris," Sam explained.

"I see," Lady White frowned. "Mr Curtis, are you sure that the statue of Seth was shaking? It couldn't have been the entire structure?"

"No," said Sam confidently, "it was definitely just the statue, it almost seemed to be rocking backwards and forwards."

"Well gentlemen, the whole temple of Seth is a fraud. Everything else is a terrific find, but that one chamber is a fraud."

"Excuse me?" said Chris, finding it difficult to concentrate with his lack of sleep.

"The temple of Seth where Mr van Dijk met his end is most certainly at least a thousand years old, but even that is very modern against the real ancient Egyptian excavations. It seems almost to be theatrical. A disk of metal spun against rock teeth to give the animal in pain sound, what we now know to be gunpowder, together with a flint and steel lighter device produced the blinding light. The slab in the ceiling was not meant to have fallen of course, but other than that, it almost seems to be a theatrical representation of Seth's death.

"The interesting thing is that any stave-like instrument would have set the contraptions off, but you both seem to think it was the staff. I understand you both might have been under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug; is that correct?"

Sam thought for a moment, then shook his head, "That's not it, Chris was badly affected, but I hardly felt it, besides which, by the time we got back to the temple, the drug had worn off both of us."

"When I examined the statue, gentlemen, the object that had been threaded into the hole in Seth's chest was a sword, a rather magnificent weapon somewhat older than the temple," she showed them a photograph of the two-handed sword buried up to the hilt in the statue's chest.

"I recognise that sword," said Sam," it belongs to the statue under Seth's temple, the one with the hawk's head, Khorus."

"Falcon," corrected Chris.

"Semantics," Sam brushed him off.

"No, he has a falcon's head, not a hawk's." Chris was adamant.

"You're quite right, Mr Keel," Lady White intervened, "And I shall endeavour to ensure that your statue gets his sword back as he didn't have it when I saw him yesterday. I suppose it's possible someone got rid of the staff and put the sword in the statue, but I can't for the life of me think why."

"Quite," rumbled Malone, "And your other query?"

That statue of Seth is embedded into the stone. There are no mechanisms and no way that statue could have been shaking, not as Mr Curtis described."

"I can only report what I saw, sir, ma'am," shrugged Sam.

"Of course," Malone harrumphed. "Thank you, Lady White, it was lovely to see you again." He helped her to her feet and wished her a good trip back to Cairo.

After she had left, Chris asked, "What about Lara?"

"Your 'Lara' doesn't exist, Mr Keel," Malone informed him, "However, van Dijk does have a step-daughter, Nell. He married her mother when she was six, the mother died a couple of years later and he brought her up." Malone shut the file, "CI5 are not currently interested in Miss van Dijk, though she will remain on our records of course."

Chris was unsure whether to be angry or relieved. She was in the clear as far as CI5 were concerned, but then again, he didn't have an excuse to go look for her.

*****

He dove through the clouds to the island below, exhilarating in the speed and frigidity of the air. The city came into view and with little difficulty he found the building whose pull was irresistible. Unable to gain access to the place, he went to the site next door and perched on dead stone to await his target.

*****

Lara stood outside the enormous building, waiting for it to close. She watched the last remaining visitors of the day trickle out, and the lights go on as darkness fell. She continued to watch as the lights followed the cleaners through the building, flicking on, then off as they finished each section.

*****

Sam watched his partner in concern. Chris was still tired, not sleeping, his thoughts elsewhere, and Sam was sure he knew where. When they had come into his apartment, something had drawn Chris to his massive windows. He had sat down on the floor, and had not spoken since except to accept the beer Sam put into his hand.

Chris sat and stared out of his windows into the fading light. The falcon sitting on the headstone stared right back at him. He brought his can of beer to his lips, but lowered his arm without tasting it.

He saw without seeing, sensed without senses and rose to his feet going out into the city. Sam followed, his concern rising when his partner didn't answer. When he grabbed him, Chris brought his hands up defensively, his face devoid of all emotion. Sam backed off, but accompanied Chris in the car wherever he was bound. Far above, the falcon followed too.

*****

Balaclava over her head, Lara let herself in the delivery gate just moments before the cleaners left through it. She made her way round the enormous building, looking for the best window to climb in, the full moon making her task easy. She carefully removed a circle of glass and put her hand through it opening the window. A small mirror took care of the infra-red beam, and she climbed inside. Before her feet touched the floor, topographical goggles showed her the minutely raised areas where the pressure pads were.

Carefully, she made her way through the British Museum to the Egyptian collection. She found the piece she was looking for easily - it lay in its own display case, and was almost identical to the Amulet of Khorus. But this one was Seth's.

She stared at it, eyes bright with excitement. The first indication that anyone else was in the room was the small, cold, circle of steel that pressed against her temple.

"Don't do it," whispered the voice she remembered so well.

"Chris," she breathed, "I confess I didn't expect us to meet so soon." She turned slightly, but stopped as the metal pushed into her hard, and he gripped her arm tightly.

"I want the Amulet you stole," he said coldly,

She frowned, "In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't stolen it yet."

"The other," Chris's tone became harder, "The one you stole from the statue."

"That wasn't stealing," she protested, "Finders keepers and all that!"

"You stole it from Khorus. He wants it back."

"You're crazy!" she cried, "He's not real! He's a wonderful old myth, but a myth nonetheless!"

"Give it to me, and pray you'll never have to find out."

"I don't have it here, we'll have to get it from my hotel," she said, getting angry, and a little bit frightened now. She tried changing the subject, "Where's your friend?"

"He didn't want me to come in here, so I left him outside," Chris replied dispassionately.

*****

Sam groaned and shivered in the night air. He was lying in the alley Chris had left him in. The last thing he had remembered was trying to pull his partner off the wall he was climbing, telling him that breaking into the British Museum was not something to be done for the hell of it. Chris had said nothing; just hit him over the head with the butt of his gun.

He stumbled back to the car, and let himself into the back seat to lie down and think for a few moments.

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew, the car was turning over. Chris and Lara did not seem to know he was there, and Chris was holding a gun on Lara.

*****

At the Strand Palace Hotel, Chris and Lara got out of the car. Sam followed at a discreet distance. He saw the number of the room Lara asked for, 238, and beat them up there using the stairs, while they took the elevator.

Using his universal key, he let himself into the room, and hid in the bathroom.

Chris was once more a passenger in his own body. He watched himself push Lara into her room. He instructed her to open the window, and smiled when the falcon landed on the sill, silent and watching.

He demanded Lara give him the Amulet. She reached under the bed and brought out a heavily lined briefcase. Opening it, she pulled out the Amulet. The falcon seemed to glow golden in its presence, but did not move from its perch.

"Give it to me," Chris demanded, "I will kill you if I have to."

Lara laughed at him, "You don't have the guts," she told him.

He shot her through the arm, sending her spinning to the wall, his expression never wavering. "Give it to me."

"I knew you wouldn't kill me," she gasped, clutching her right arm.

Chris stepped forward, his eyes cold and flat. Lara might not believe him, but Sam did, and he wasn't about to let Chris shoot the woman in cold blood.

"Chris, don't!" he exclaimed, stepping out of the bathroom behind his partner. Chris's finger tightened on the trigger. Sam leaped at him. The gun went off. Lara screamed. The falcon screamed. Chris yelled as his head hit the wall. Sam yelled as the falcon dove over his head. Lara screamed as the talons flashed by her face.

The Amulet gone from her grasp, Lara picked up Chris's fallen gun, and backed out of the hotel room. Sam ignored her, and Chris was too stunned to care.

The falcon waited on the sill until Chris was lucid enough to focus on it. The American registered the bird, and the Amulet it held in its beak. The bird stopped long enough to make eye contact with him before flying off into the night.

*****

"About time you woke up, sleepyhead!" Sam grinned as Chris shuffled blearily towards the fridge.

A grunt was his only response.

"So, have a good sleep? Feeling better?" Sam asked from the sofa, as Chris poured milk straight from the carton into his mouth.

"Mmmmph," Chris replied putting the carton back in the fridge, ignoring Sam's look of disgust.

"You do realise how lucky you were not to have been caught at the museum?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Chris grumped, and threw himself on the sofa next to Sam, tinny in hand.

After a little while, Chris shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry about, you know," he pointed to his head.

Sam rubbed his own theatrically. "I could be traumatised for life, you know."

"Sorry," Chris mumbled again.

"Something's still bothering you," Sam observed.

"Not really, I just can't get the feeling we haven't seen the last of Lara," Chris said thoughtfully.

"She's probably off making some other poor sod miserable," Sam was dismissive.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said, "Here's to making Malone miserable," he raised his Bud, and took a long pull.

"That the next item on your agenda?" Sam asked.

"It's always on my agenda, but today it's at the top of the list."

Sam raised his wine glass, "I'll drink to that."

*****

In a hotel room in Nepal, Lara cleaned the silver Beretta that had belonged to Chris Keel, and smiled.

"We will meet again, my friend," she smiled to herself, "One day."

*****

Elsewhere, the statue's eyes blazed blue as the falcon returned to its home, the Amulet resting securely around the statue's neck.

FINIS

 


End file.
